Verity Rising (Gods of Deceit Book 1)

by Phil Scott Mayes

  “Ted Verity,” I reply, but as the words leave my mouth my brain is riddled with deep, penetrating needle pains in multiple places. It’s a violating pain that tingles, burns, and stabs within my gray matter. There’s something kinetic about it, as if information is being extracted straight through my skull. I want to fight it, but I’m completely powerless. I doubt I even have the strength to take Nephilim form right now.

  “Your full name,” Drake prods.

  Here we go again.

  I brace for the cranial violation and deliver my answer. “Theodonis Verity.”

  Drake looks well above my head to the person holding my skull and returns their silent nod of confirmation. Already satisfied that they’ve got a baseline, he starts with the real interrogation.

  “Good. Next question: what were you doing at Pentastar Pharmaceuticals?”

  There it is: the unavoidable question with a condemning, honest response. I’ve feared this moment my entire life, but now that it’s finally here, I’m at peace about it. He already knows I’m Nephilim and likely knows I was somehow involved in Joel’s death. My mission at Pentastar was noble, and if I’m to die for my efforts, then I’ll die honestly, my only regret being my failure with Jan. I have nothing to lose by being honest.

  “I acquired a job there to identify targets for sowing. You know what sowing is?” I ask. Drake nods so I continue, “I was there to be a reckoning, to hold accountable those responsible for the Fosillix trial. The only person I actually sowed was Joel Donovan.”

  His head shifts upward again, waiting for some kind of verification before the next question. I try to crane my head for a glimpse, but it doesn’t budge. Drake snaps back to me and says scornfully, “Now, Ted, you’re doing well so far. Don’t screw this up by getting impatient.”

  “Drake, I’m already in agony from being tased and every time I answer a question, this vice-gripped wraith lights up my brain with flaming needles. I’m telling you the truth and I’m going to tell you the truth, so whatever this is, it’s not necessary.”

  He gives me a look that, given my blurred vision, I can only imagine is condescending. “Unfortunately, with your kind, Ted, this is entirely necessary. In fact, it’s the only way to be sure, so sit still and suck it up, big guy. Next question: what is the nature of your relationship with Jan Lucero?”

  I begin my response with a huff of displeasure. “Initially, she was my target—one of many,” I say, fighting through the probing pain in my head. “But after a while, I thought maybe I had misread her role in the situation and she proceeded to deceive me with incredible cunning. Tonight she betrayed me after her stooge killed two people. She gave me an ultimatum: join her and rule over humanity or run for my freedom and possibly my life. Of course, I rejected her offer and went on the run. I now see that we have always been adversaries, mortal enemies even.”

  I wince and clench my jaw as the pain builds, then subsides.

  “Very good, Mr. Verity. I mean, it’s pathetic that you foolishly fell for Jan’s shit, but so far it seems you’re an honest fool. We can work with that. Okay, last question for now: what is your purpose?”

  He would ask such a crushing question in such a pivotal moment. After everything I’ve been through with Pentastar, I have certainly lost sight of my original sense of purpose. More than anything right now, my purpose is to pulverize Jan Lucero. If that happens to serve the greater good, then so be it, but this vendetta is personal.

  “If you had asked me that question ten hours ago, I would’ve told you that I’m a divine guardian of truth whose only purpose is to rectify creation’s decay through the sowing process. I thought it was the calling and the burden of all Nephilim to walk amongst humanity, denying themselves the pleasures of their flesh that so often lead to corruption and deceit. Now, after seeing Jan for what she is, that belief is shattered. I wonder how many more Nephilim have chosen her path, and I wonder if the things she claimed about my kind are true.”

  The more questions I answer, the more accustomed I become to the pins and needles in my brain. What was once painful and violating is now just a hair beyond uncomfortable. I realize that I can tolerate the sensation further and that I failed to completely answer Drake’s question, so I continue.

  “The truth is still all that matters. Being deceived by Jan has only reinforced that belief. But now it feels like I’ve been wasting my time going after these people when I could have been waging war against the so-called gods of deceit. So, to answer your question, destroying Jan and those like her is my new purpose.”

  Drake ponders my response and seems to have noticed my strengthening resolve. The strong hands still squeeze my head tightly, but as he cranes toward his associate for authorization, their grip softens and his posture relaxes. He begins nodding, and as the nod gains momentum, he removes his Taser from its holster and trains it on me. Reaching into his pocket, he produces a pair of handcuff keys and dangles them between us.

  “Looks like you passed. Now, my friend behind you is going to remove the cuffs, but you’re going to keep your eyes locked on me. If your eyes so much as twitch, I’m going to tase you again. Understand?”

  I nod and give a plainly annoyed, “Yeah.” He tosses the keys and the mysterious mitts release my head to catch them. I stare deeply into what have to be Drake’s pupils, although I still can’t see well enough to make them out. It’s not an exaggeration to say that I’d rather die than be tased again. I’ll give him no reason to do so.

  My shackles fall free but I remain motionless. Planks squeak behind me, then creak around my right side with each step. I’m still firmly locked on Drake’s pupils and will remain so until he lowers the Taser. The figure steps into my peripheral vision and I fight furiously against the temptation to glance toward it. Without looking, I can tell it’s not what I expected: tall, but not some behemoth. Maybe the hands weren’t as strong as they felt in my weakened state.

  Without a flinch, Drake asks his associate, “Are you ready?”

  A hand rests on Drake’s shoulder and squeezes, then he speaks again, “Okay, Ted. You can relax.”

  I lean forward and withdraw my arms from between the chair slats. Hanging them loosely toward the floor, I shake them like limp noodles and then bring them together and massage my wrists lightly. As curious as I am at this point, I’m not sure I want to know the identity of his partners. If those questions had gone differently, whoever that figure is would have snapped my neck with their bare hands and probably dumped me in the nearest pond. This ordeal has definitely left me gun-shy and well aware of my limitations.

  “Aren’t you gonna look?” Drake asks.

  “No. I don’t want to know. I just want to be left alone. I don’t trust you or whoever is standing next to you, and if you’re not going to kill me then I have a lot of thinking to do about how I’m going to take down Jan,” I say, speaking into the tarp.

  “It’s okay, Ted, you can look. Why don’t we plan that together?” says a familiar, comforting voice.

  I quickly snap to its source and, despite my faltering vision, immediately recognize the woman standing near Drake.

  It’s Melody.

  “Melody?” I ask, but my voice cracks embarrassingly. “I probably shouldn’t feel this surprised. It’s just that I got a pretty dark idea of what Drake was up to and would never have expected you to be involved with that. How do either of you know about the Nephilim, and what’s with the interrogation?”

  Melody calmly fields my questions. “Ted, when we first saw each other at that cab, I was investigating Joel’s suicide, but not for an article. I investigate every local suicide because they can be indicators of Nephilim activity. Not all are, of course. Plenty of people commit suicide on their own, but with the circumstances surrounding Joel’s death and you being the last person to talk to Joel that morning, we knew there was a high likelihood that you’re Nephilim. When Julius picked you up at the bar after Dave’s death and found that vial, we were certain. Jan must’ve known w
e were closing in on you with the way she swooped in to rescue you at the station. We figured that she was going to try to flip you, but we didn’t know she’d murder in the process or we wouldn’t have let it play out. I’m not sure when she identified you as Nephilim, but as strong as she is, she probably sensed it pretty early on and waited to see what you were doing at Pentastar before she took action. Once you sowed Joel, she knew you had to be flipped, run off, or killed.”

  “That’s all great info, but you didn’t answer either of my questions. How do you know about the Nephilim and why are you doing this?” I repeat, a little more bothered than the first time.

  Drake, still lounging in the chair across from me, turns and looks up at Melody. She meets his gaze from the corner of her eye and they share a moment of silent astonishment at my density. I notice, and don’t appreciate the insult.

  I speak again in my own defense. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not at the top of my game. I’ve been tased twice and had my brain probed during the last couple of hours. My head is throbbing, sizzling, and mostly useless.”

  Mel looks at me with kind pity. “Right. Well, Ted, I’m Nephilim. I thought you would’ve figured that out immediately with my little lie detector trick, but apparently you do indeed have a lot to learn about your own kind.”

  Her look, her light, her effect on me, they all make sense, and at some level I think I’ve always known. Still, like with Jan, it never fully sunk in and I want to know why. How could I be so close to them and not recognize our sameness? Why didn’t the seed within my veins react to theirs?

  Melody finishes answering the second of my earlier questions, saying, “The interrogation was the only way to tell if you had been compromised by Jan. Nephilim’s inherent relationship with truth can also make us extremely talented liars. When I placed my hands on your head and energized the seed within my blood, it created a small electromagnetic field that influenced the seed in your blood.”

  “So are you saying that I have a lot to learn because I didn’t know that we have supernatural abilities? Like some kind of mind control?”

  “I am surprised that you were never taught about your abilities, but I don’t mean it as an insult. The one I just used doesn’t let me see your thoughts or control your mind—nothing like that—but I can sense the electrical impulses in your brain. Also, ‘supernatural’ isn’t the right word. Electromagnetic fields are completely natural. They’re a part of creation’s design and are harnessed for radio and cellular communication, internet, and television transmission. Some might say that it’s our ability to interact with those fields that is supernatural, but we aren’t even the only creatures who can do that. Dogs can sense when their owner is going to have a seizure, other animals can sense fear, and yawns and laughter are contagious. Some of this can be explained by social and nonverbal cues, but the underlying cause is those creatures’ relationship with invisible but very real and natural forces. With my ability, I was able to determine that you weren’t using the creative centers of the brain to fabricate your replies. It can be a very uncomfortable feeling, but we had to be certain that you weren’t seduced by their ways.”

  “Yeah, it felt like needles gliding deep into my brain,” I say with a shiver at the memory. “You said their. So there are more like Jan?” I ask.

  Drake nods, and Mel says, “Many more. But there are more like us too.”

  “It’s not murder when you’re fighting a war,” I say, finally fitting some of the pieces together in my crippled mind. “So I stumbled into the middle of a war?”

  “Not so much stumbled, you were born into it. This war started long before you or I were around, but it is our war and no Nephilim can avoid it forever. Those who’ve tried to withhold their allegiance inevitably end up choosing deceit or vanishing.”

  As her words sink in, the only sound is the ticking and tocking of the grandfather’s pendulum. A delicate howl travels down the chimney and out of the stone fireplace. The wind is picking up. Through the drawn sheer curtains, it appears that the brilliant moonlight is now obstructed by cloud cover.

  “There’s no choice for me. It’s always been truth and it’ll always be truth. But choosing a side in this war sounds like joining a team and I’ve always worked alone. It’s all I know and, after my experiment with Jan, it seems better that way,” I assert.

  Drake takes the opportunity to land a jab. “Yeah? How’s that working out for you?”

  Sick of his attitude, I slash back. “How exactly do you factor into any of this, human? Let me guess, you figured you’d latch on to the first Nephilim you met so you didn’t end up eating the muzzle of your service weapon? What’s it like being a powerless sidekick?”

  “Powerless? I’ve got more than enough power to handle you. I’ve dropped you twice with the push of a button. Some divine being you are,” he says with a snarky chuckle.

  “Boys, boys,” Mel intervenes. “Ted, I know this is new for you and you’re not sure where you fit or how to make it work. That’s totally normal. Most Nephilim who’ve joined us struggled at first, but it’s worth it. I promise you’ll be glad you did. Going alone is a good way to end up dead, or worse.”

  “Melody, no offense, but I’m not convinced. First, you said it yourself that Nephilim are skilled liars. It’s going to take more than your noble words to persuade me. Second, if your cause is really worth joining, why don’t I see more of an impact in this city and others? If joining the team makes us more effective, multiplies our output, shouldn’t I see those results? The reality is that the world is still a cesspool and all the ‘Jans’ out there are still living like royalty.”

  “I know how it looks, Ted, but I need you to trust me. We’re laying low for now, building a foundation, and preparing. There are forces at work that we don’t fully understand yet, and we don’t want to reveal our hand too soon. Our numbers are growing and we’re honing our skills daily. You could do the same on your own, but we’ll only have lasting victory if we work together.” Her earnestness is evident and infectious. “There’s a place I’d like to show you. I think it will change your mind.”

  “You’ve got me curious, I’ll give you that. You also haven’t killed me yet, but neither did Jan, so that doesn’t necessarily make you the good guys. If you really are plotting to take her down, I’m interested, but if I’ve learned anything from the last few days it’s that when things seem too good to be true, they usually are. So, Melody, what’s the catch?”

  “Oh, we’re going to take her down, Ted. Her and all the others like her. As far as the catch is concerned, there is one.” She tosses an opaque black hood onto my lap. “I’m going to need you to wear this over your head until we arrive at the settlement.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  What feels like several hours pass as we cruise and bump along numerous highways and county roads. At first, I try to stay oriented, tracing our new heading with every turn, but I eventually lose track during a stretch of interchanges that seems deliberately entangled. For a moment, I thought I could make out the sound of a train horn and figured it was the Ellis Trail Line and that we were headed back toward the city, but depending on which way we came out of those confusing turns, it could be any number of tracks. Mel and Drake sporadically talk in hushed tones that I can’t fully decipher over the shimmering strings and soaring brass of the classical music they’re blasting in the back seat. I’m now lost, not just geographically, but philosophically and spiritually as well.

  The blissful beauty of my current circumstances is that my choices are so woefully biased. My best options are obvious, and in that sense my decisions are being made for me. I thus enjoy a lack of control that’s almost therapeutic, for now. It will eventually drive me crazy, but until I reach that threshold, I’m reveling in the flow like a fallen leaf caught in a fast-moving stream. All I can do is buckle up, let go, and make the most of the ride.

  The comfort of helplessness lulls me into a profound sleep, as rejuvenating as it is long. Abso
lute nothingness engulfs my spirit, and in that void, I find my health. But that’s not all I find. I am visited in my rest by a most unwelcome guest: the dead-eyed rogue Nephilim.

  What I first assume is a nightmare takes on a surreal palpability. He stalks my spirit in its comatose slumber. His scent, his presence, his aura so real I can taste its bitterness. He says nothing because he is not there to speak, only to make his presence known. Watching me with soulless indifference, he sits on the seat beside me examining my motionless body. In his silence, his simple, terrifying message is clear: I see you.

  I lurch from my sleep expecting to see the inside of the black fabric hood. Instead my eyes are scorched by the high-noon sun filtering through the window blinds. Children’s voices chatter and whoop playfully amid the cadenced shrieks of a rusty old swing set. I prepare for an onslaught of full-body aching as I attempt to sit up, but none comes. I feel terrific. The round mechanical alarm clock on the bedside table reads 1:33 p.m., meaning I just slept for almost twelve hours. I’m still wearing the same overripe suit pants from the day prior, but I can see my dress shirt and coat hanging in the closet through the white bifold doors that are accordioned slightly open. Leaning forward, I find my black dress shoes placed neatly under the edge of the bed.

  “Morning, Sunshine,” blurts Drake from the doorway, startling me.

  Deja vu.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he says while jiggling with laughter. “Feeling better?”

  “I feel brand new,” I answer, doubtful that he actually cares.

  “Mm, yeah, don’t care. You better be feeling new after that much sleep. You had me waiting around forever.”

  “Twelve hours is hardly forever, and if it were up to me you would’ve left a long time ago,” I rebut.

  “Twelve? Try thirty-six,” he says. Then, noticing my shocked reaction, he adds, “That’s right, Sleeping Beauty. You’ve been out cold for a day and a half, and I’ve been stuck here babysitting your lazy ass the whole time. I had to check your pulse just to convince the others you weren’t dead. By the way, that reminds me, your breath reeks.”